Rhythm for Real
by shelter
Summary: A collection of poetry, songs and other pieces written on Harry Potter and other characters. One on Katie Bell written up. Please review.
1. Intro: Slytherin Pride

  
**Rhythm for Real**

A Collection of poetry, songs and pieces inspired by Harry Potter

**NOTES:**_ None of the characters here belong to me. They are the property of JK Rowling. I only claim the rhyme, rhythm and enjoyment from both._

**Intro: Slytherin Pride**

Thrust me into the light,  
left me stranded all alone;  
fallen out from freedom  
and the loyalty they stole.  
Pale faces adorn my sky,  
their eyes swimming with hate;  
corner me with stakes and staves,  
their tongues athirst in its condemned red.  
The sounds my only guidance,  
their madness still unchecked,  
singled out by their leaking vices  
bound in iron over my hands.  
My breath: my only companion:  
here I fall to my knees;  
here I receive no more memory,  
even as these eyes begin to bleed.

_And I burn in this hateful pride  
over the graves of my desire;  
in despise they take me.  
On my hands the marks they burn  
and they gouge me as I yearn  
for the rage in my only peace._

The darkness strangles my eyes  
as the serpents encircle my arms;  
my malice its venom spilling,  
and its eyes boil in my bonds.  
My shrieks it longs to compose me,  
colours pride to my shame  
and silver to green it wounds me,  
and swims polluted in my veins.  
No more longing left in retribution  
hungry in its control;  
for the serpents my soul possesses  
I only must atone.

_Lost sight of my irony;  
hellish bent in my pride,  
and left me in the sun to proclaim  
the measure to which I died.  
And then let those with the right  
walk away in the clouds,  
give me something to seek,  
but, still, you're too proud._

(2003)

* * *

**NOTES: **_There was a point in time when I liked Slytherin characters, and fortunate in that short phase I managed to cough this little poem out. And in it I poured all the self-loathing and disgust of my first year in junior college, all the perplexing conflict any unwilling Slytherin like me might feel. _

_I have better poems to use as an intro. But I'd thought I'd first put out the most clichéd and hopeless of my poems first to remind myself, and everyone out there, to please don't fall into mould of the dark dumb angst of teenage life. It ruins my poetry a lot. So don't judge me on this, keep reading and tell me what the others are like._


	2. The Gryffindor

**1. The Gryffindor**

(For Wendy) 

_A candle's stubborn flame burns  
concentrated in her eyes,  
tangled sides of crooked form  
blaze in its sunlight.  
Bravery remains transfixed upon  
the sleek in her words,  
replaces the lunge, frozen of  
a motive needless.  
Brazen in shocks of courage  
muscular in the flex of her arms;  
only to suppress my derelict comparisons  
that set us apart.  
Stretched into pale disparity  
edged in the arcs of her stare,  
my form a putrid eyesore  
asserted by ironic regret.  
Standing by the flickering scenes  
a lion shines in her hands,  
calloused in shadows of empathy  
and coloured in chivalry's red.  
Strangled in attempts at resistance,  
control me not to defy,  
the candle's stubborn flame burning  
concentrated there in her eyes.  
_

* * *

(2003)

**NOTES: **I like Gryffindors. I wish JK Rowling would one day create an ideal Gryffindor character for me to sink all my poetry in. But until then, I guess I have to draw on the people I see in real life who fit the stereotype Rowling has elaborately placed for us. I wrote the poem after my junior college orientation, and I think it has lost a lot of meaning, because it was supposed to be for the orientation leaders of my house, who were in all sense sincerely brave, loyal and very doting on us their juniors.

The person whom this poem is written for I haven't seen in about 2 years. I wonder if she's still as hyperbolic as I portray her to be in my words.


	3. Emily Dale Fansite

**2. Emily Dale Fansite**

_Moved by my passion,  
through fragments of twisted faith,  
and I stumbled through yonder point  
where your name is engraved.  
Sought a sihaya in the desert,  
but found this chaser adorned  
with crimson and gold for standing  
in the midst of the storm.  
Unnerved by your apathy,  
staring callous through mine eyes;  
swathed by what I  
cannot attain  
and degenerate my desire.  
A crest of tresses hung loosely,  
and down the rise of your gaze,  
gasping between struggling dreams:  
my weakness my strain.  
Overthrown by your wings  
and thrust into my own shell,  
eager to pay homage to your eyes,  
and then paint your face:  
Katie Bell.  
(2002)_  



End file.
